


such a pretty face

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Category: Fruits Basket
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: He thinks about Tohru about as much as you’d think about someone who lives with you—which is to say, a lot. You can’t help it. He thinks about Yuki, too, but Yuki’s a piece of shit and someday he’s going to knock Yuki through a fucking wall. He doesn’t feel that way about Tohru.
Relationships: Honda Tohru/Sohma Kyou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 102





	such a pretty face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EternallyMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternallyMe/gifts).



> for the tohru to my kyo! meeting someone so wonderful during a pandemic has sure been a challenge lmao but i'm so so lucky to know you.
> 
> ANYWAY i've been watching a LOT of fruits basket -- initially in an attempt to better get to know a rlly great girl, but now i'm. obsessed. enough so that i'm breaking my "no fic until i've consumed all the canon" rule to write some extremely soft kyoru.
> 
> title taken from PUBLIC's "pretty face" !!!

Girls aren’t really something on Kyo’s landscape. The boys in his class talk big talk about the pretty upperclassmen and their short skirts and their long legs and all kinds of other stuff he’s not really paying that much attention to, because it’s not like it’s something he’s ever going to get to _have._ He could go the playboy route, chase down girls until they’re swooning and toss them when he’s had enough fun messing them around—but he doesn’t _want_ that, for a reason he has a whole lot of trouble really articulating until he meets Tohru.

But this is before he meets Tohru, when it already feels like a foregone conclusion that he’s going to be locked away for the rest of his life. He can play-act the angry Cat, yelling himself hoarse about how Yuki doesn’t know what’s coming, but the truth of the matter tugs at his heart and makes it impossible to look at girls the same way the rest of the boys his age do. No one would want someone like him—Kagura, though she tries to atone for her flight even now, is living proof of that—and he doesn’t want to waste his time on someone who doesn’t really know what he is.

Still—sometimes he catches sight of a girl at the market, or in the park, or walking quietly down the road leading out of the Sohma estate. He notices long hair, sweet smiles, sparkling eyes, and guilt settles in his chest, hot and heavy. No one is going to want him—and _no_ one would want a disgusting monster _looking_ at them the way he does.

Kyo averts his eyes.

* * *

Tohru is the prettiest girl Kyo has ever met. This is an indisputable fact, like the sky being blue, or the grass being a wet, dewy green after it’s rained and a dry, crunchy brown in the fall. It doesn’t feel shameful to notice that Tohru is pretty, because it doesn’t feel possible to _not_ notice that Tohru is pretty. From the moment his eyes meet hers, Kyo assumes that _everyone_ who sees this girl knows that she’s the best thing in the entire world—and that anyone who doesn’t deserves to be punched _really_ hard in the face. Not that _he’d_ do it. Someone else will, probably.

He thinks about Tohru about as much as you’d think about someone who lives with you—which is to say, a lot. You can’t help it. He thinks about Yuki, too, but Yuki’s a piece of shit and someday he’s going to knock Yuki through a fucking wall. He doesn’t feel that way about Tohru.

Obviously. You knock Yuki through a wall and he knocks _you_ through a wall. You knock Tohru through a wall and she’d apologize a thousand times for upsetting you, which Kyo doesn’t understand at _all._ She’s so _strong,_ the strongest person he’s met (a fact he knows in the same way he knows that she’s _beautiful)_ , but tears spring to her eyes every time she thinks she’s upset somebody. Not when she’s hurt—when she thinks someone _else_ is hurt.

Sometimes, fear tugs at Kyo. He doesn’t know if anybody notices that no one’s looking out enough for Tohru. He tries his best, but she _sure_ doesn’t make it easy: if you ask her how she’s doing, she’ll smile a little, and then somehow _you’re_ talking about how _you_ tried to push a couple of second-years down the stairs because they called you Kyon-Kyon one too many times. And somehow she makes it seem _okay_ while you’re doing it—she makes all the right noises, and fusses over the bruise one of the second-years left when they elbowed you in the face, and asks about ninety times if she needs to tell them to stop trying to call you Kyon-Kyon, because she _will,_ Kyo, you can _count_ on that—but after you’ve left (with that weird, warm feeling in your chest that makes you want to throw yourself through Shigure’s doors, _again),_ you realize that she never actually answered your question.

He starts trying harder. For her, he thinks he can try just a little bit harder.

* * *

It’s a few months into Tohru staying with them before Kyo has the dream. He hasn’t had a dream like it before. It’s Tohru, in bed with him—and even in the dream, he’s _so_ afraid by how close she is. Her hands slide up his chest, her nose brushing against his, and she says—something, he doesn’t remember. It’s soft, laughing, nervous in that way she gets when she’s worried she’s upset him—which is enough to bring him back to what’s important. _No, you didn’t upset me,_ he says, and she laughs again, tears springing to her eyes. _No, hey, why are you crying?_

 _I don’t know!_ Tohru giggles, and bumps her forehead against his, draping her arms loosely around his shoulders. Their legs are tangled together under the bedsheets. She’s wearing those cozy pajamas that she loves more than anything, pink and printed with little cherry blossoms. _Oh—Kyo,_ she says suddenly, worry clouding the world’s prettiest face. _Why are_ you _crying?_

Kyo wakes up with his face wet and his chest _aching._ He goes outside and kicks a tree really hard.

* * *

Kyo dreams that he slots his mouth against hers, tangling his fingers in her hair. Tohru kisses back with clumsy enthusiasm, just as shy and happy as her smile every morning. He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know how, but she says _I love you I love you I love you_ and he wakes up _burning_ with want. And—the most frightening thing is that he _can’t_ be mad, because how can you know Tohru and _not_ burn for her? How is it possible to look at Tohru and _not_ want her?

There are a lot of things in Kyo’s life that he could have stopped. He’s definitely not stupid enough to think that this is one of them.

* * *

_“Are_ you okay?” he says one day.

Tohru, who looks like she’s about to snap her pencil in half from sheer frustration, jumps a little at the sound of his voice. “Oh—I—” She exhales, eyes teary and bright. “I’m just not very smart,” she says miserably. “I don’t understand the second problem at _all,_ and Yuki said if I don’t understand it I should skip to the next one, but I _tried_ that and I don’t understand _any_ of them! A-and if I don’t understand _any_ of the problems I might not graduate high school, and if _that_ doesn’t happen I won’t get a good _job—”_

“Sheesh,” says Kyo, whose brain doesn’t always stop him from saying exactly what he’s thinking. “Why are you worried about _that?_ You could do the _first_ problem, couldn’t you? I couldn’t even do _that_ one.”

The tears in Tohru’s eyes spill over. “I’m sorry, Kyo!”

Only when he makes Tohru cry does Kyo wish that Yuki would show up and flip him into the pond outside. “N-no, I just meant—!” Frustrated, Kyo exhales. “You’re smarter than you think you are, okay?” he says. “You just—freak yourself out too easily. Maybe what you need to do is take a break and stop worrying—and it’s not like you can’t ask the stupid rat for help when he gets back.”

Tohru blinks, a small smile fluttering across her face. She doesn’t say anything, just leans back into the wall, large eyes watching Kyo with unabashed adoration.

She’s always looked at him like that. He never knows what to do with it. Tohru looks at _everybody_ like that, so it’s not like he can kid himself into believing that he’s special—but it still makes him feel _so_ warm when he tugs that rare, real smile out of her.

(There are words for a feeling like this. Three, to be precise.)

“You really are kind of a crybaby,” says Kyo, but his voice comes out soft and strange. Maybe Tohru’s magic, he thinks—she takes the bite out of everything he tries to say. She smiles, and suddenly all that martial arts training isn’t half as important as being gentle enough to make her smile again. “You wanna go for a walk?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tohru wavers. “If you haven’t done your homework—and you might be busy—”

“C’mon,” says Kyo, and without thinking about it, extends his hand. He wants to snatch it back for a moment—there’s too much to be said about how _easy_ it is to reach out to Tohru Honda—but she takes it, that sunny, shaky smile stealing across her face again, and maybe there’s something to be said about _that_ too.


End file.
